


Anticipation's on the Other Line

by AFireInTheAttic



Series: Quote Meme Prompts [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Skype, Tattoos, The Happily Ever After Project, au pairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 08:10:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12526872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFireInTheAttic/pseuds/AFireInTheAttic
Summary: “I think I want a tattoo,” Lydias says thoughtfully, drumming her fingers on her desk.“Why?” Allison’s voice is tinny through the skype call, but she’s leaning forward and watching Lydia so earnestly she might as well be here and tangible, touchable.Except not at all, because then Lydia might actually be kind of happy.“To memorialize the fact that I’ve made it a year without hugging you,” she sighs. She drags her fingers over the bone of her wrist.





	Anticipation's on the Other Line

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WinterFaery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterFaery/gifts).



> Cross-posted from my tumblr. Requested by Donna :) 
> 
> "I like when you smile."
> 
> Title comes from The Calendar by Panic! At The Disco, a song that doesn't really fit the mood of this, but nonetheless is what I thought of when I was editing this to post it.

“I think I want a tattoo,” Lydias says thoughtfully, drumming her fingers on her desk.

“Why?” Allison’s voice is tinny through the skype call, but she’s leaning forward and watching Lydia so earnestly she might as well be here and tangible, touchable.

Except not at all, because then Lydia might actually be kind of happy. 

“To memorialize the fact that I’ve made it a year without hugging you,” she sighs. She drags her fingers over the bone of her wrist. “Maybe I should get an arrow. It’d be cute.”

“Aw, come on,” Allison says, laughing a little. “You’ve been fine. You haven’t even missed me.”

She smiles at that idea, a little rueful, and shakes her head. “Self-debasement isn’t an attractive feature in a modern woman,” she teases. More seriously, she adds, “I’ve missed you ever day since you’ve been gone. My new roommate sucks.”

“I know,” Allison says, rubbing her arms and shivering a little. “I’ve missed you, too.”

They’re quiet for a minute, just watching each other a little sadly. Being in France was a great opportunity for Allison, of course, but selfishly, Lydia just wants her to be home. She could have been an au pair just as easily in the states (never mind that the whole point was to improve her French in addition to buffering her resume).

“Well, you’re halfway done. It’s only one more year, and then I’ll be home, and we can get an apartment together again,” Allison offers.

“That will be nice,” Lydia said, smiling softly. She clears her throat and grins at her. “Have you brought any cute French boys home yet?”

“Lydia!” she nearly shrieks, acting scandalized. “I’m a nanny! I can’t bring boys here!” Conspiratorially, she leans toward the screen. “But the family was on vacation last weekend and I brought somebody home with me.”

“What’s he like?” she demands, because her friend, as wonderful and sweet and beautiful as she is, doesn’t know how to do casual sex. She’s probably still having coffee dates with the guy.

“She,” Allison emphasizes. “Was the cutest person I have ever had sex with in my life.”

“Get it,” Lydia intones in response, before demanding more details.

When Allison hangs up because it’s nearing midnight where she is in France, Lydia marks off another day on her calendar. She keeps it specifically to countdown for Allison’s return, and she’s going to destroy all of the evidence before Allison can find out. But in the meantime, it’s nice to watch days disappear into red and blue X’s. Red for days that are particularly hard, blue for the ones where she barely thinks of her at all.

Most of the days are red.

She traces the bones of her wrist again. An arrow. Yeah.

* * *

Lydia looks around for a week before finally settling on a tattoo parlor that’s close to her dorm. It has good reviews on Yelp, and the pricing isn’t too bad.

She’s getting a small piece of her heart tattooed on her body, after all so she has to pick a place that she can trust.

She books an appointment for the next Friday and spends the week looking for a simple design to bring in. She finally decides the simpler it is, the better, prints out a picture, and goes to the parlor.

* * *

When Lydia calls Allison that night on skype, she’s practically vibrating with excitement. She’s still got the bandage over her wrist, but the tattoo artist had promised she could temporarily lift it to show off, as long as she was careful. There were a lot of other instructions, too, but she’d carefully written them down in one of her notepads, and she’d read through it again after talking to Allison. Her best friend. Most important person. Love of her life. Whatever.

She’s got a thing for drama, though, so she keeps her wrist out of sight for the first couple minutes, while they chat about school (Lydia’s studying theoretical mathematics and Allison goes to French university in the mornings and takes care of the children in the afternoons) and Allison’s wards, Aurelie and Pierre.

“Yesterday, Aurelie asked me why I didn’t have a boyfriend,” Allison says, grinning. She plays with her hair, absentmindedly.

Lydia can tell she’s not wearing a bra. She wishes she weren’t wearing the shirt, either, but she’s always worried about creepy guys hacking her webcam, so she’s kind of glad only this much of Allison is visible. “What’d you say?” she asks.

“I told her I liked somebody back home in America,” she says, shrugging. She winks at Lydia and bites her lips. “I mean I hook up with people here and go to coffee, but none of them are my forever…person.”

“Who is?” she asks curiously. Hope flutters violently in her stomach, and she squashes it. She’s not starting anything now, while Allison is so far away and she doesn’t even trust the world enough to have cam sex with her.

Allison smiles at her and taps her chin. “I’ll tell you,” she says. “If you promise not to laugh.”

“When have I ever laughed at you?”

“Never. And I used to think I was funny.”

Lydia smirks at that. “You’re all right. I promise.”

“You promise I’m all right, or you promise not to laugh?”

“Both.” She fiddles with the bandage on her wrist. She doesn’t want to break in, but she’s nervous about what name Allison is going to give her, and she knows…just knows…that if she says anything but “Lydia Martin,” she’s going to break.

“It’s…” She hesitates, suddenly serious. “It’s someone really important to me. She’s basically the best person I’ve ever met and—” She sucks in a breath. “I don’t know if she even likes girls—”

“She’ll like you,” Lydia interrupts, because it has to be true. Everyone loves Allison. Everyone wants to be with Allison. She talks about it with Scott all the time.

“I don’t want her to like me,” she says, frustrated. “I want her to love me.”

Lydia holds her breath for whatever Allison will say next, but it seems like she’s waiting, too. They stare at each other for a long minute, Lydia fidgeting and picking at the edges of her bandage and Allison biting her lip and twisting a single strand of hair between her fingers.

“I got the tattoo,” Lydia says finally, when she can’t stand the silence. “You want to see?”

“Yes,” she blurts, dropping the strand of hair and rubbing her face tiredly. “I’m sorry. I’m chickening out. I can’t say it yet.”

“It’s okay,” she says. It’s not. The suspense is killing her. But she loves Allison more than she needs to satisfy her curiosity, so she tugs off the bandage and holds her wrist up to the camera.“

"You didn’t!” she shrieks, rocking forward.

When Lydia lowers her wrist to grin at Allison she sees the other girl beaming at her. “I like when you smile,” she says, softer than the moment might merit, because Allison is still bouncing excitedly at the white arrow tattooed on the inside of her wrist. But Allison’s dimples always make Lydia feel so fluttery. She can’t help it.

She turns red—or maybe it’s just the weird lighting in her room combined with the less than stellar skype camera. She acts unaffected. “I need to get a matching tattoo,” she insists. “What’s your favorite mathematical formula?”

“Just get pi tattooed all over your body,” Lydia says, teasingly. Joking, almost. “Then everyone will know you’re mine.” She’s serious about that, but she can pretend.

Allison licks her lips and smiles shyly. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” she says, fixing the bandage and leaning toward the webcam. She’s smiling, too, not exactly smug, just…at ease. Whatever American Allison is supposedly in love with can be dealt with later. She’d bet that Allison doesn’t skype them four nights a week. She’d bet that they don’t have arrows tattooed on their wrists. She’s given the declaration. All that’s left is for Allison to pick up on it.

“I like when you smile, too,” Allison murmurs, and then yawns. “Can I call you back tomorrow, around three your time? The kids have worn me out today.”

“Of course,” Lydia says.

* * *

Her tattoo throbs while she’s curled up in bed that night. She thinks of Allison and smiles.

 


End file.
